Author's note: 3/12/12
To reply to the anonymous reviewer, thank you for the compliment on my characterization. It's something I've worked extra hard on in developing. Since this fic involves a lot of personality stand-ins inserted into canonical characters with no given characteristics, I spent a tremendous amount of effort trying to piece together everything confirmed by canon in order to create something plausible in-universe. This is also a character-drivenstory, in the sense that personal beliefs and moral dissonance among the cast will become a major conflict later on.
Speaking of characters, this chapter primarily focuses on character development, in the same way the last chapter focused on exposition. Which means that it'll be present, but driven by an event (like Jecra beheading a dragon in the second chapter—good heavens, that was a such a fun scene to write), so as not to make it bland and over-descriptive.
In my eyes, I found this to be hard and forced due to time constraints, and I hope that doesn't show too much in the final product. This chapter was even harder to write than the first and the second, and after tinkering with it for another week, I'm still not satisfied.
There's a little spotlight near the end on Atelier, the aloof and composed soldier. For those of you already familiar with the story, she's not exactly a calm version of a certain later-in-canon female lead or a reskin of her if she was less pragmatic and more respectful. Atelier has her tics as well, but they show up within time.
Content notes: The title, "The World is Not the Way it Seems", was one of the earliest developments I've had to come through the course of writing this story. Of course, the subject matter within it has changed drastically over the years. I considered calling it "The End of the Beginning", simply to be frank about how most of the exposition ends at this point. There will be some swearing near the midpoint of this chapter. Nothing like cluster F-bombs, though.
Anyway, enough of my long ANs. Enjoy, and if you are inclined, you are most definitely welcome to share your thoughts with me. I'm always open to hear what my readers are thinking.
The dreams were back.
No longer was I floating in the void of space; I stood on the same checkerboard of astral proportions that I'd dreamt of many times before. This time, the board was intact, and I could see where the sides of the board ended, the sharp edges spilling over to a vast beyond of colorful blue-green and red nebulae.
I stood near the edges of the board, eyeing the patterned black and white squares around me. Carefully placed in their positions were an army of life-sized statues, and right away, the thought struck my mind that they were chess pieces – their features so uncannily familiar it looked like the chessmaster had taken the real soldiers they resembled and petrified them into stone to make his minions on the board.
On my side of the board, I recognized a few of the soldiers I'd met in Squad 19, where they stood as pawns in the front row, along with a few others I didn't yet recognize. At the far corners were the rooks, Jecra and another unknown soldier. Nearing the center were the knights, bishops, the queen, and on the white square, the king – none other than Sir Arthur himself, pointing his sword to the sky in a pose of victory.
I looked to the far side, and looming over the soldier pieces were the legion of demons. They were even larger than life, making the other pieces look small in relativity when compared to them. Their features were grotesque, seemingly realistic enough for them to come to life and jump out at me. Though the pawns might have towered over me, the back row was even higher – in one of the rook's corners stood the machine-monster that Jecra had rescued me from the day we met, with the red glowing cross in its abdomen and its flail cradled at the ready in its hands. Many more monsters that I didn't recognize stood among it, casting their shadows over the board.
I took a step back, and a loud, guttural voice rang out, filling my ears with the sound of maniacal cackling. Turning around a full three-sixty degrees, I looked for the person behind the voice, but found nothing. It was coming from all around me, ringing out from all four sides.
"You are here to play the game, I see."
I looked up, but saw only the stars among the swirling nebulae. I said nothing.
"Very well then. You have played the game of chess before, no?"
Not wanting to speak, I nodded. I had a chess set back at home, but no one to play with. Usually I resolved this dilemma by playing with myself, and I had spent many cold nights turning the board and toying away on how to trick myself, my only opponent, into falling for my own traps.
But this was different. I had never played chess with another mind than my own before. I would have to take a risk – to attempt something that I knew in theory how to do, but had no experience in putting to action.
"Good,"the voice replied. "It is a very intellectual game. Each piece moves in a different pattern of formation. The first side to capture the opposing king wins. Essentially, it is the basis of a war constrained into sixty-four black and white squares. The premise may be simple, but the amount of strategy – the Metagame, so to speak – involved in the play is what makes the game interesting."
There was a long pause of silence. Metagame...it was a good word to describe the thoughts behind a simple game of chess. Strategy allowed a player to be cunning and on their feet, making them able to deceive their opponent in a fair way within the constraints of the rules.
"I move first." The voice boomed, and a bony finger lowered down from the darkness above to move the pawn in front of his king to one of the white squares in the middle of the board.
It was official now. The game had begun.
And the war had begun as well.
Chapter 3: "The World is Not the Way it Seems..."
Two days.
That was all they had given me to rest my tired body before I began my training, and my first day of grace was already past its halfway point.
I had spent the morning pumping life back into my stiff body and watching the soldiers repair the damage done to the infirmary. The bandages on my hands had come off when I woke up, and I allowed myself some time for my minor wounds to heal. First things first, I had one of the less-dilapidated barracks assigned to me, in an isolated wing of the same building where most of the soldiers spent their nights. I'd felt a little shame in not being able to help the soldiers or even repay the deed that Jecra had done for me the day before, but there wasn't much to help with. I ended up minding my own business, exploring the garrison, and gathering opinions about the people around me.
Shortly before noon, all the work had been finished, and Jecra had personally introduced me to his second-in-command, Atelier. She was the one who'd been described as 'the voice of reason', and I recognized her as the one who had told everyone to quiet down in the infirmary, when I was still bed-ridden and didn't know the names of the Squad's members.
Atelier had mentioned, in her own words, that my first real day was coming, and that she thought she might prepare me for it early. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of getting the way of a soldier beaten into me any earlier, but once she explained the purpose of her request, it was all clear.
The three of us had gone to the garrison's forge, where Atelier served as its blacksmith. Her plan had been to get my body measurements so that she could prepare my armor and have it ready for my training. With the help of Jecra, a clipboard and a tape measure, we had the task done within minutes.
As proof that the Galaxy Soldiers did have a formal procedure, I was issued a standard weapon, a switchblade with a yellow hilt where a knife no longer than the length of my hand pivoted out from. Atelier had given me a brown leather belt with a scabbard to store it in, and I put my Warp Star in with it as well, to save me from the trouble of holding it around all day. After eyeing me over twice, she gave me a thumbs-up and a reassuring word of encouragement to be ready for what was lying ahead. At least now I felt like a soldier-to-be, with the aid of the basic equipment, but I knew that the real predicament was yet to come.
Presently, I ate lunch with the Squad on the same round table in the mess hall. I would never get used to eating among the prescence of others, or just being with people in general. Still, even though I hadn't fully met them, I felt a sense of fellowship among the soldiers that I'd never experienced before. It was another foriegn feeling – the feeling of having friends. No, not friends – brothers. What I felt was something not tied by acquaintance, but by blood. Like if the only place I'd ever belong to was in the company of the Squad. It was weird, unfamiliar...but then again, so was everything I'd done here so far.
As I ate, I thought about the six soldiers sitting around me, and I could now name each one of them. They talked amongst themselves, forming their own small groups of two or three, and they addressed their leader, Jecra, without the hesitation that would have come as a side effect of holding a lower rank. Only I was alone, and no one bothered me because they knew – I liked it this way.
I didn't want to judge, but based on what I had found out about them, I already had developed an opinion of my new comrades. My first day had just been a bad way to start. Even though I had been told to suppress them, impressions meant a lot to me and this one certainly hadn't left a good feeling. I made a mental note to avoid Palamedes, the soldier who had insulted me before he even knew my name. Jecra had given him a personal lecture, which I did not hear, and I was glad I had the pleasure of being spared of it.
Sir Arthur had come across to me as a fatherly figure of sorts, maybe the kind who stood from afar and watched the world go by. Even after he had left, I still yearned for his benign prescence, and it had made me feel welcome. That made sense – it seemed like he could come and go whenever he pleased, and wherever he went, he would be revered. It was as if he seemed to see something that I didn't, that he knew something I wasn't aware of. Quite honestly, the aspect of him that I liked most was his unparalleled respect for others and his capacity as a listener. He was the leader of the whole army, after all...and it was a position that called for great responsibility. Being able to maintain his level of power and retain his consideration of the people under him was quite something. Sir Arthur was a person to look up to, for varied reasons.
It was still hard for me to register the fact that I was now a soldier – rather, a soldier-to-be. Granted, it was to be definitely better than the kind of life I'd led before, but I held onto my doubts. I was covered in a sort of self-denial that rejected the role, even after realizing how the life of a soldier would be better in the long run. That unwillingness of mine shone through the most when Sir Arthur had briefly explained the reason why I had been brought here. For the most part, I felt that this Star Warrior business was just a sense of fulfilling an obligation to whatever higher power that had enlisted us to fight. As for the reason why it had to be me as the chosen in-born warrior and why I had to be put specifically in Squad 19, that was still a mystery.
I had no choice; I knew that I could not turn back and forget everything I knew about Star Warriors and the purpose of the Galaxy Soldier Army altogether. I knew that this was my true place – I belonged here, and I would stay here, not because I wanted to, but because I had to.
Most of the day droned by quickly without any major events, until it was time for the afternoon training session for the majority of the Squad. I followed them to the center of the complex, and we entered a mostly-empty gymnasium that was literally falling apart at the seams.
That was when it happened – so sudden, yet almost expectedly. I had the disadvantage of no context – I knew what was happening, to some degree, but I did not know the full story behind what was going on – and that was what had made the following all the more shocking to me.
When we were settled, Palamedes threw his shield down and thrust his mace into the floorboards, and the sound of splintered wood echoed through the empty gymnasium.
"What...you call this shit training?" he spat. "I'm here to learn how to fight and all you're doing is throwing this crap at me and making this look like some kind of dumbass game?"
For the first time since I'd arrived, Jecra looked insulted, caught off guard with Palamedes' words. That was a low blow, and something – everything – within those words had finally made him snap.
"You've done it, Pal...Now you've really done it!"
In a flash, Jecra leaped at him, grabbing him by the collar to lift him up by the nape of his neck, with the entire Squad watching. There was nothing to hide now from me. Out poured the emotions behind the masking words, the wavering reassurance of brotherhood amoung the soldiers I'd looked up to and even revered.
"You bastard, Palamedes..." he chuckled dryly. "Can you do any better? Come on, Pal, can you do any damn better?"
Jecra kicked him over to face the Squad, and his panic-filled eyes rested on me as he struggled at the vicelike grip that was choking him. Then, releasing his grasp, he threw the soldier down onto the ground, his gaze fixated on the splintered flooring.
"You have no idea...how hard this is for me." His voice was barely beyond a whisper now. A tinge of guilt passed through us, partly from hitting a sensitive nerve, and the other half from our own ignorance.
"How can I do this alone?" He yelled. "Can you handle this damned position by yourself? With no one to look up to and everyone pressuring you to be their hero? And even when you do, still, nobody cares about the efforts you've made! Even when I've saved you not just once, but twice – you're still ungrateful! I'm sick and tired of hearing you bitch about how you hate the way I do things – well, y'know what? Let's see you run this Squad without any help, without any support, and without any recognition! Huh? Let's see you do that for once!"
Palamedes stood up, retrieving his mace. He pointed the spiked end of the weapon at Jecra, with the full intention to charge at him.
"Fine...I will! And the first thing I'm gonna do as the leader of this Squad is have you fired from duty!"
"What, you dare challenge my authority? You wanna fight, Pal? Fine, then, fight! Come at me with all you're worth!"
They were just about to attack each other when someone sprang in and forced the two away from each other.
"Jecra...STOP!"
The shrill voice belonged to none but Atelier. Holding a firm stance, she had the flat surface of her shield pressed into Palamedes' chest, her free hand keeping her at a safe distance from her leader.
"Why?" she pleaded. "Why must you betray the words of the Stars? If this is really our problem then we can always ask Sir Arthur whenever he's coming back to get Sir Nonsurat to set us straight..."
Again he flinched at the mention of his name, more so than ever before. "All right, you sons of bitches want Nonsurat? Fine, I'll get you Nonsurat! Hell, in fact, we'll get on a ship and fly to him right now! Like hell Arthur's gonna come to us. We're coming to him! And that's assuming that we don't all kill each other on the way there!"
Jecra let out his breath and his head hung low with shame, the way it had the day before when he killed the beast in front of our eyes. This was wrong, wrong on so many levels but he had neither the words or the patience to explain why.
"I need some time to myself to think; don't bother me. You are all dismissed."
Jecra didn't show up for dinner that night.
I wondered why.
Though the source of the tension was gone, part of it still remained from the fear of what it would be like when he returned. And since a house divided could not stand, the immediate backup duty of leadership was given to Atelier, who did her best to return the atmosphere back to status quo.
She approached me when I was brooding, as I was taking my own time to bring myself together. Little did she know about how she'd just hijacked my train of thought.
Her message was simple; she'd made an effort to be honest and thoughtful enough to repair the damage in a constructive way. She told me that she'd given the soldiers a night off due to the lack of instruction, and that asking them to do anything more would have been an unreasonable call. Because of this, she offered to have me spend the night with her at the forge, where she could hopefully patch up the rest of my doubts.
After finishing dinner at the mess hall with the other soldiers, I agreed to keep my appointment with Atelier, meeting her at the forge room where I found her working on my armor.
"How much longer until you're done?" I asked.
Atelier sighed. "A while. It takes time to make quality work, you know. But definitely quicker than making something from scratch."
The tall woman had taken off most of her armor and put it on a dress form next to many others, displaying works in progress, whole finished suits of armor, and many other pieces that needed to be fixed from battle damage. Instead she wore protective gear, an apron and gloves made of a thick flame retardant material and a welding mask specialized for her job, different than the one she normally wore. Under the mask her hair was swept back into a high ponytail, kept away from her face with a headband that had her star pinned to the front.
I sat directly across from her on the far side of the forge room. From the anvil and her workspace, a black column of smoke rose through the air, disappearing through a ventilation shaft on the ceiling. The only lights in the room were from the tools she was using and a furnace burning behind her. It was lit adequately enough for her to work, and sparks flew as she set to work on my armor. Occasionally she'd dip it into water to cool it down, measure it carefully, and hammer away at it again in dissatisfaction.
"Normally, we don't let the newbies in here much," she said over the clamor of her work. "But I guess for you, we're making even more exceptions."
"Thank you for letting me stay here. I needed some time away from Jecra."
Atelier nodded sympathetically. "I hear you, kiddo." She set her work down for the moment and patted the work bench beside her. "Hey, Meta! Why don't you sit here for now? Better than being in the dark, for sure."
I did as she said and took my place right where the light of the furnace began to fade out.
"Je—I mean, that guy…" she said carefully when I sat down. "If you haven't yet noticed…he's crazy."
"I noticed."
I was curious, all of a sudden, of how this was possible. Even under what was seemingly an illegitimate leadership, the Galaxy Soldier Army was still able to function the way it did. And so the questions poured out.
"Why is it so hard for you and the other soldiers to say the name 'Jecra'? It's not as if it's hard to pronounce, and every time you call Jecra by his name, he gets tense. Why is that?"
Atelier laughed and pulled off her gloves. "Oh, he just doesn't like being referred to by his name. It's just one of his many quirks. Trust me, I've learned it the hard way. It's the best way to make him listen to you, if you ever need that, by the way."
"But that still doesn't explain why."
"Yeah, I know. It's definitely complicated, I can tell you that. I've been with him for quite the while – longer than anyone else right here, in fact—and he's never actually told us. Come to think of it, he might've, once, but I never caught the exact details. I do remember it was 'cause of something quite personal to him, or some other strange reason. He's always had people refuse to call him 'Sir', too, even though he deserves that rank. I'm not sure, but here's hope to that it might clear out somethin' for you."
Silence blanketed the forge room and for a while it was just the two of us and the crackle of the warm fire. It was Atelier that decided to lighten up the room with small talk.
"You're not too shaken up after that episode this afternoon...right? I did what I could to stop it."
I hesitated a little. There was no denying it; of course, I was disturbed by it.
"Does 'he' always act like this? You know…"
"Impulsive, eh? Not always. In all honesty, in these recent days he's been acting exactly the opposite of what he normally is like. But he's quite the interesting character. To me, probably the most interesting person I've ever met. There's just that one thing about him that you need to see happening inside of him, in person, to get to know him face to face. And as for his character on normal circumstances…at any rate, he isn't soft. Forgiving, but definitely not soft. Demanding, yet not 'tough' enough to make you give up. Gentle, but never yielding."
"That's rather vague."
Atelier patted me on the back. "Don't worry. It'll all make sense soon. He isn't the laid-back hypocritical piece of work you might think he is. He won't give you a very hard time, but it's not saying he won't challenge you or make you take it easy. Tell you what – I was trained with him, but that was a long time ago – before anything like Squads or those nasty demon attacks ever came to be."
"Did he ever...have an outburst like that, the way he did this afternoon?"
"Well…let's just say it wasn't without good reason. Yesterday, that was just an isolated case, and today has reasons of its own. He's been going through a lot of stress recently, our leader – in a lot of ways, he's just as new to this as most of us are. "
"Or maybe he was just having a really bad day."
Atelier sighed in agreement. "Meta, let me tell ya – I know you've heard this maxim countless times before, but don't judge a book by its cover."
"What does that mean? I've never heard of it." And that was true – I was never one good with interpreting idioms.
"Really, you've never heard that one before? It means that you shouldn't judge a person before you get to know who they are. Likewise, it's never good to start with a bad impression of someone, because that first impression may never always be right. And that has its roots back to the talk we got yesterday."
I nodded. It did make sense, after all. I tried to imagine how a book could only be weighed in its worth after the story within it was revealed.
There was one question that still nagged at me, and admittedly, it was easier asking Atelier these things than asking anyone else. That's what I liked about her – Atelier wasn't neutral in the sense that she was a person who took no sides. She had the character to support something, but only what was righteous. In that way, she was kind of like Jecra – she'd tell you the truth in all of its hard honesty, whether you were on her side or not.
"Who's Nonsurat? The person you were talking about earlier – who is he?"
"Haha, funny you ask...because contrary to popular belief right here, the Galaxy Soldier Army has a form of organization! Say, Meta, did they ever have you learn about military rankings where you came from?"
I nodded again. No one had ever made me learn anything, but I had known it nonetheless. "I know about them, a little bit."
"Well, if you start from the very top of the pyramid and work your way down, Sir Arthur's the General of the entire army. Then, directly beneath him are three divisions that make up the soldiers of the GSA, where the units break down to their smallest points, to numbered squads like ours. There are three Lieutenant Generals – Sir Dragato, Sir Falspar, and Sir Nonsurat – each in charge of their own division. Nonsurat is perhaps the most notorious of them all."
"How so?"
"Let's just say...the method to his madness is beating it into you until you become strong enough. Again, I can't say much about it...but, to put it as an understatement, Jecra doesn't exactly have the best relationship with Nonsurat."
She sat up and rummaged around her desk to gather the things she had been working on and put them into a padded box.
"Hope that's made you loosen up a bit. I reckon that we're going to leave this place tomorrow, first thing in the morning. There's no sense in dawdling right here when no work's getting done at all."
"Thanks," I replied, grateful to be back on my feet again.
"Tell ya what – you're a good kid, Meta. You listen well and you're not afraid of what people think. That's the mark of a good soldier, right there – you need to listen first and then do your thing. Oh, and questions aren't a bad thing at all – it's really a mentor's fault if he discourages 'em. Sorry for dragging this night out, I didn't mean to lecture you."
"Oh, I don't mind. It was a pleasure."
She led me to the door and held it open for me when I stepped out.
"It's pretty dark outside now, do you want me to take you to the barracks?"
"No, but thank you anyway."
"You sure? Well then, best be on your way. And don't forget to report back to me after you're all done with your training. Then you can come and spar with me. I'll be waitin'. And then we can test out how good my armor is for real. See you around, Meta."
And with a final goodbye and a word of encouragement, Atelier sent me on my way.
The time by myself was short-lived when I saw Jecra sitting alone on top of a stack of crates near the center of the garrison.
There was no mistake; it was him, looking up at the stars as if he was a lost wanderer seeking guidance after falling astray. My stride broke into a run and I appeared beside him, motioning for him to notice me. He looked at me for half an instant, then turned back to the stars while acknowledging my prescence. He didn't even maintain eye contact as he spoke without introduction.
"Look at the stars. They don't get torn down by problems like we do. And even when all the predicaments of the world burn us down and fade away, up there, the stars will keep spinning, still spinning...on their courses in the heavens."
There was nothing I could have said to build the moment. The sky was so clear that day, as if our own isolation from the pollution of the world had made the view of the stars even clearer.
"I...I'm sorry, Sir."
He looked at me in pain, like the word 'Sir' was caustic in his ears.
"No, Meta...I'm sorry."
Jecra shifted his weight on the stack of crates, and I climbed up to the highest box to sit beside him, my eyes, too, craning up to see the stars. As much as I tried, I could not empathize with the man, for I was new and inexperienced, more so than anyone else in the Squad. But I had the benefit of thought, the ability to dream and stretch my imagination. I felt only sympathy this way, not empathy – and in this way, at this moment, it was not truly genuine.
"Meta." Jecra's eyes shone with a faraway look. "There's something I think you should know about me."
He ran his finger down the golden chain hung around his neck, where the pendant hung with its eight-pointed starburst design and gleamed brightly in the starlight. I looked at its design, each of the eight raised points, the blue oval-shaped gemstone set in the center. It was the same design etched into his shield, which I'd noticed the day we met.
"Really...you're a lot like me, to tell you the truth..." he began.
"When I was a boy...I knew nothing of the stars. Nothing had mattered to me. Nothing put warmth in me, and nothing was worth protecting. But, each night, the stars were up there, and no matter what happened to me, they would always be there. And I felt that they were watching over me, guiding my lifelessness and bringing me hope. I felt a connection...yet I did not know what it was.
"That was when Nightmare struck – at the peak of my doubt and obliviousness. It was Sir Arthur who reached out to me, showed me the world I'd yearned to see but never went to seek. It was Arthur who brought me into the Kingdom of the Stars, into the war that was always being fought around me, but had always been invisible to my eyes.
"At first, I deeply detested it. More so than you did, more so than Palamedes did. Boy, was I enraged! I wanted to run away from the Army and never come back, to leave and forget about everything I'd learned about the Star Warriors and Nightmare and the whole reason why we fight. But I couldn't do it; Arthur stopped me before I could. He told me that I no longer had a home to go back to. Told me that I had reached a point of no return, and crossed an irreversible threshold that would never make life the same.
"That hurt me...a lot. But then he said, that as far as I was concerned, this was my home now – in the GSA, in the Kingdom of the Stars. And after that, it felt like the world had opened up to me. Not the world on its visible level. But the colors were more vibrant. My feelings were controlled and even more passionate. And most of all...I knew that whatever I fought for would not be fought for in vain.
"And that's why...that's why I've tried so hard. Too hard that I even forgot the reason why I'm here, Meta. I wanted with everything in my heart to pass on my own realization that there is more to life than this – more to the world than what is just seen with our eyes. That the world is not the way it seems – and that there is something worth fighting for, something far, far greater in store for each and every one of us. We may not see it at first, but it's always there. It's like how the stars disappear in the day. In reality, they are always, there, always spinning above us, but in the day, their light is blinded by the light of our own star.
"And that's why it hurts, too. I feel like I've failed to do my job as a leader. Yes, 'cause I've done a bad job as a mentor...but there's more to it than just that. I was looking for recognition, Meta. You heard me yell about it, all right. But that's missing the point entirely. We fight, not for ourselves or our own ambitions, but because we know what we're doing is right. The depths of space are our battlefield, the freedom in the stars beyond is our hope. And it's true – the walls of this universe are constantly expanding, and so are the borders of our battlefield. That's where we come in. We shed light where light can't reach, to the far corners of space where people are waiting to be liberated."
A gap in the clouds near the horizon gave way to another sight to behold. The glittering, milky band of the galaxy's arms cut through the cover of the clouds, circling the sky like a ribbon.
"I've done what I could to do my part," he continued. "But I have only sullied the reputation of the Galaxy Soldier Army. For that, I have no choice but to take the blame for what I've caused. And what I wish for, now, is that I may use this life only to bring others into the same light that that lit up mine on that day, long ago."
He turned and looked at me straight in the eyes, as if trying to root his words into my heart and ingrain them in my memory.
"Listen – this is a promise I know I can't break. I want to be remembered not for who I am, or anything of my own merit—but simply for the cause that I stand for. Mark my words, Meta...we will come back together. We will bring forth what is right, and only what is right. And until then...the stars will always be up there, spinning in the sky, for us to explore."
With one last look, Jecra clasped his hands together and pulled himself down from the crates.
"Well then, Meta, good night. That's that. We'll get some sleep now. And tomorrow, we'll start over again on another planet – so that this time, we'll do it right."
Author's Note: 3/12/12
...Heh. Does anyone even read these things anymore?
There's a lot of details and foreshadowing that I've tried my best to include in the past three chapters, especially the stuff about the organization of the GSA—I've never been a military buff, but I know that my organization system is highly flawed. I realize that I'm one of the first fic writers to ever take a stab at including that detail, so I figured I'd just make the 'illegitimate leadership' (as Meta himself describes it) a plot point later on.
A couple interesting things about this chapter:
1) From the prologue, the bolded word 'Metagame' used to be a working title for this fic. Yes, I went through many titles for this project before I eventually settled on naming it 'Stardust Utopia'. 'Metagame' was one of these titles.
2) Jecra's entire monologue is extremely significant. It speaks not of just his own feelings, but of the outcomes of his hopes as well. I wish it didn't have to come out as forcedly as this—it's one of the most important scenes in my exposition, and I hope it's not overshadowed by the lack of fluency in the events preceding it.
Thanks to all who made it this far. May the Stars be with you. ~✪